A/N Hey My Lovelies!!! I have been toying with this idea for a while and finally, after a really rough night (my version of a Danger Night tbh) I decided to write it....It's super fluffy and really bloody cute. Hope you like it!! Enjoy<3

"John?" Sherlock's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but John instantly looked up from his computer. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, cradling a sleeping Rosie in his arms and looking wonderfully awestruck.

"What's up Love? I haven't seen that look since-"

"John! Not in front of the baby." Sherlock scolded, blushing softly. John chuckled quietly and pushed himself out of his chair, walking over to stand next to his boyfriend.

He loved watching Sherlock with Rosie, seeing the giant brain of the detective slow down to process the simple human in his arms. It was almost as satisfying as the feeling he got when he made the man's mind go offline while they were intimate.

"She fell asleep while I talked of mold cultures, just like her father." Sherlock's voice was so gentle, John felt a soft tug at his heartstrings.

"That's my girl." John grinned and took the child from Sherlock's arms, making his way up the stairs with his lover in tow. They tucked the sleeping child into her crib, watching her sleep for a few moments.

They finally made their way downstairs, John noticed the way Sherlock stayed quiet. Normally, when Rosie fell asleep in his arms, he babbled about her for hours once she was tucked away. Today though, he seemed lost in his thoughts.

John made them both a cup of tea, handing Sherlock his mug before going and settling on the sofa, leaving lots of room for the lanky man to stretch out as he always did.

"I want a child." Sherlock's declaration nearly made John choke on his tea.

"You are aware that we have a child, right? You know, that little lump of skin we just put to bed?" John could almost feel the eyeroll his boyfriend sent him.

"I'm being serious, John."

"Alright then, come here, let's talk." Sherlock sighed heavily, but obeyed, flopping down on the sofa and resting his head in John's lap. Sherlock hated it when John made him sit and talk, but it was the deal. John knew that if he didn't enforce the talking thing, nothing would get discussed and this wonderful thing they had finally started would fall apart. "So, what do you mean you want a child?"

"Exactly what I said."

"Sherlock."

"I mean, I was reading online today that it is better to have two children than it is to have one. That way the child learns the benefit of sharing and how to interact with other children appropriately." John smiled fondly at the man in his lap, carding his fingers through his hair and gently massaging his scalp.

"So you want another child so Rosie can learn proper behaviours?"

"Not just that-"

"But you are worried that she won't fit in, because it's us raising her." Sherlock's face changed from mildly irritated to lost and uncertain.

"Not exactly." Realization struck John and he stilled the movement of his fingers.

"You're afraid she'll pick up on your habits." Sherlock blushed and avoided his gaze, but John could read the shame and fear on the younger man's face.

"I-I'm not a good influence John. I can't teach her how to properly act around people-" John cut off his words with a gentle tug of his hair. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get the genius's attention.

"Stop that. You are an amazing parent Love, and I'm honoured that you are helping me raise our daughter." Sherlock squirmed, but didn't say anything. "However, if you really want another child, there are things we need to talk about." He caught Sherlock's eyes and laughed at the hesitant joy he saw there.

"Really? Y-You mean-"

"Really. I've always wanted two kids, and I rather like the thought of having them with you." Sherlock shifted so he was kneeling beside John, looking more excited than Sherlock had seen him look in a long time.

"We will have to find you a suitable partner, one that is willing to be with you as well as carry the child-" John grabbed Sherlock's wrists, instantly stopping the excited man's babbles. He took stock of Sherlock's body language and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. That simple action always served to bring the wild mind of the great detective to a place of relative stillness.

"That is one of the things we need to discuss." He whispered, cupping Sherlock's cheek and pressing a kiss to the little wrinkle between his brows. "If we have another child, it's going to be yours."

"W-What?"

"Your child, your DNA."

"B-But John, I'm gay." John furrowed his brow in confusion, opening his mouth to ask what the detective meant three separate times.

"I- You know- What- what has that got to do with anything?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and shot John his trademark 'You're-an-idiot-but-I-love-you' face.

"I'm gay, therefore, I can't have intercourse with a woman." John blinked for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles. For a genius, Sherlock could be incredibly dense. "John, what is so funny? If you want the child to have my genes, that means I have to-"

"Donate your sperm you dolt." He managed between giggles, which only grew as Sherlock's face changed from confusion, to realization, to confusion again. "Sherlock, you have heard of Artificial Insemination, right?" The blank look on the man's face told him everything he needed to know. "Basically, you would donate some of your sperm, and we would choose a woman who had donated some of her eggs, fertilize the eggs, and have them implanted into a surrogate's uterus, and presto, we have a child that is half yours, and you don't have to sleep with anyone other than me." He watched Sherlock's expression go from lost to gleeful with a loving smile on his lips. He pulled the detective into his lap and kissed him, feeling the man practically vibrate against him.

Sherlock suddenly broke the kiss with a gasp, looking down at John's face with a gleeful expression.

"If it's a boy I want to name him Hamish, and if it's a girl I want her to be called Sherlock." John laughed, kissing his lover once again.

"We have a long way to go before we start picking baby names Love." Sherlock shrugged and tried to climb off John's lap, but the blogger flipped him over onto his back, pinning him down. "Nope, I'm not done with you quite yet." Sherlock giggled, and tried half-heartedly to push John off before giving in.

It took nearly a month for John to make sure Sherlock fully understood what all having another child would entail. They spoke about it in great length, leading to several panic attacks from the detective. He was terrified that the baby would develop his flaws, a fear John knew all too well.

They spoke to Mrs. Hudson about renovating the building to meld 221B and 221A into one big flat, offering to have 221C redone for her so she wasn't forced to live in a musty basement suite. She had squealed and cried, nearly squeezing the life out of the pair in her joy.

Mycroft had insisted on paying for any renovations that had to be done, and even offered to pay for John and Sherlock to get married and for Sherlock to legally adopt Rosie. John was overwhelmed at the generosity, while Sherlock was suspicious, but he soon got over it when he realized he would be legally adopting Rosie.

When the time came to choose an egg donor, Sherlock proved to be incredibly picky.

"What about this one? She looks good, tall, well built, intelligent-"

"No."

"Sherlock, that's the twentieth girl you've turned down. What's wrong with her?"

"She isn't right." John growled in frustration and paced the flat, trying to figure out why this one wasn't right.

"Why the fuck not? She's pretty, smart, biologically compatible with you-"

"She doesn't look like you." John's entire being froze at those sheepish words. He turned to face his husband, catching the blush the taller man tried to hide.

"You mean, you've been turning down perfectly fine samples because the donors don't resemble me physically?" Sherlock's timid little nod nearly made John melt into the floor. "Why?"

"If I can't have your DNA be the second half of our child's, then I at least want her to share some of your physical traits." Sherlock was blushing and looking down at the floor, shuffling his feet and looking as though he thought he said something not good.

It was the sweetest thing John had ever seen.

He pulled his fiancé in for a tender kiss, grounding the man and reassuring him that what he wanted was very good.

When they finally settled on a girl, Sherlock chose a young, petite, dirty-blonde Med Student, with an athletic build and a decently high IQ. It warmed John's heart immeasurably to see Sherlock's nervous smile when he looked at her picture. He had to fight with the man to not go looking for her, even going so far as to enlist Mycroft's help to keep her address hidden from the detective.

In the end, they wound up hiring a surrogate to carry the baby, despite Sherlock's protests. He wanted either Molly or Harry to carry the child, but neither woman was willing to put their bodies through that kind of stress. Not that John could blame them.

The surrogate, whose name was Brenda, was a perfectly lovely woman that John came to be quite fond of. She was like the funny Aunt that everyone loves, and even Sherlock seemed to have a tough time finding a reason to dislike her.

Sherlock doted on Brenda hand and foot, taking better care of her than he took of himself most days.

Watching the crazy detective prepare for the new baby was fascinating. John could see the fear, love, anticipation, concern, and terror pass his face whenever he talked about the baby. It was the sweetest thing John had ever seen.

The entire process took nearly two years, but on the day when John stood in the hospital room next to his husband, the tall detective cradling their new baby girl in his arms, John new every second had been worth it. Sherlock held the squirming baby in his arms, tears on his cheeks and the happiest smile John had ever seen on his face, and the blogger was certain he had never seen a more perfect sight.

"What are you going to name her?" The nurse asked, looking between the pair. John grinned up at his husband, who was completely lost in his study of the baby.

"Locket Elizabeth Holmes-Watson." He stated, hearing the hitch in his husband's breath. He grinned up at the blissed-out man and let the little baby Locket grip his fingertip. Sherlock had insisted on naming the girl Sherlock, but John had convinced him to pick a slightly more normal name, not telling the detective he had come up with a compromise. "I think Locket is the perfect name, unique like her father." Sherlock leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to John's lips, their tears mingling where they met.

That night, as they lay Locket down to sleep, John looked up at his husband as they watched their new daughter fall asleep, and his heart swelled.

It had taken far too many years to get here, but they were finally where they needed to be, and there wasn't a single thing John would change.